Golden times

Another amazing sunset can be seen from my window today.

Well, it could be more amazing. The fact is that today I fell quite unsatisfied with my work. With the inexistence of it really. I needed to read thsi novel for Monday and I just hate it so it is probably not going to happen. ANyways, I wish I had some real motivation to do something.

The hours that anteceded this afternoon laziness are worth dropping a line about. Yesterday, in the aftrenoon, I went with Maria and Isabell to Commercial Drive - one of the most awesome places in Vanocuver. We went around some shops and I bought a warm and nice black cape in a shop called Retro Rock Vintage Clothing. We talked to the guy there who was this hyper nice Irish who had lived in Berlin... it was great. Later we went to this "Eat Healthy" festival in the Croatian Cultural Center (?...). It was very interesting, being the kind of meat eater prejudiced traditionalist I can be. I came out with some new ideas and an overwhelming feeling that there is nothing like living in Portugal in terms of food.

After that we went to a Nepali restaurant where I had probably the most spicy food in my life. But all in all it was delicious. At that point I said out loud: this is why I cmae to Vancouver! Really! Where at home could I buy the awesome vintage clothing and eat Nepali food? I love multicultural places =).

Change of subject.

Today, Paul Newman, aged 83, died of Cancer in Connecticut.

I just wanted to take a moment here to express my admiration for the great actor that was Paul Newman. AS a part of my childhood I cherished him as some of my favourite characters. He will eternally be Eddie, by the pool table. The words to Clara, at night during The Long Hot Summer will always be there. His piercing blue eyes and the confident smile rest in our memories for ever.


Well, the guy playing the loud guitar by the hall hasn't stopped and my motivation is not back. Who cares anyways.
'Cause when the sun is out, we will all shine like gold in the air of Summer.

-Sanity is visiting! - Staying for dinner, honey?

After the last slightly hyper post, something more pondered. Soundtrack: Funeral the album by Arcade Fire. Simply because this is the stuff I hear all the time in my Mp3 player whenever I take a bus to Lisbon and the airport. It always means some good times are on the way, that I went to meet someone, to be adventurous for a day somewhere away.

That is exactly what I fell like these days: be adventurous. explore this whole freaking continent that lies beyond the mountains of Vancouver. And yet, here I am buying tickets to go on Winter holiday home. First I fell bad since I know so many people cannot go and spend their holidays with their families and I have the priviledge of doing so and being "unsure" about it. I realise how spoiled I am really. Second, I would really love to stay, get on a bus and go around Canada. Problem: with whom? I plan to go alone if needed to San Francisco, but that is in the summer: biiig difference. So, I am a 17 old little girl scared of getting frozen alone somewhere. That is the thing I hate about myself at the moment.

A second note.
I am officialy sort of disappointed with University. I know, I know. This setence probably worries the people who might read this and care about me. It is not I am depressed in my room and hating everything around me. No. I guess, I just thought it would be different. I thought about loads of very ineteresting people,with true intellectual commitment. I thought of agitation, alternative stuff, of revolutionary ideas, questioning the status quo. Well, I guess I was thinking Paris 1968 or Berkely 67 or something of that sort, with Woodstock mixed in it. No, it is not like that here. It is not like people will take a van and go and travel to California in the summer.There is no big subversive stuff going on. No idealistic groups, anarchic movements or pacifist activism. nope... Things are a bit milder, more politically correct, I guess. More normal.

Still in search for that ideal of University, I went to the Women's Centre. HeY! I am a feminist. There should be something I liked, some people I could identify with. 'Cause I was going down in my room, so I need to "get involved" and meet others. After all, it couldn't be all Christian or Asian (or both in one) groups! There should be something for me besides knitting (I am seriously questioning why did I sign up for that again...). So I go in and I talk to some people (girls), get some books, fill out a volunteering paper. But still, I don't have a great feeling about it. It is the exclusivity, the fear, the "womanly" side of it that bothers me, strangely enough. They have a lounge, just for self-identified women there. People nap there and bake. They have self-defense classes and "knitiing and bitching" sessions.
....?
I don't like the way the whole thing sounds, at least for now.
I know this is not "Flekke buble" and that this kinds of organistations have to go thourgh a lot. Still, I think there is too much politicla correctness and orthodoxy on the ways of seeing the feminist issue here, too little exploration of various approaches. Nto that I possess that, but I was expecting it to be found on a Univeristy level institution (again the intelectual community thing...). I also reject the idea that women ought to have a "fortress" (menaing exlcusive space) on campus. It is based on the assumption that women fell better among women. That was not so great when me and two of my friends wanted to bake cookies - one of them was a guy... Besides, the self-defense classes, as a main activity of teh center. While I acknowledge their value and the fact there is a significant rate of violence against women, I also think they perpetuate a climate of fear and of constant threat: women MUST be worried, more worried than men or any common citizen.
It all comes down to a core issue: to strive towards equality requires that we feel equality. Self-identification, sense of automatic entitlement is the basis for change of social attitude. The feeling that women are marginalised in the every-day dealings of an action group like this is important, but cannot take over. Because, remeber, that is exactly what we are trying to go against.
Male involvement is also a problem. They are described as "male allies". Allies misses the point, in my opinion. Men are directly involved as citizens in the feminist issue. The idea that oppressed groups should stand alone for ever is self-contradictory if we have equality in mind. Men must be a part of this struggle if we are to make effective change towards the idea that gender should not determine and limit a citizen's life and real opportunities.
I must say I was quite put off from my feminist ideas. But then, I remebered "Gender and Sexuality" in the college. And I realised what an honour it was to be part of that, how great it was! The discussion of concepts, of mind sets and of so many issues that we engaged in there was of a great quality.

In the end, I ended up filling out the volunteering paper. Who knows? At least they have a great library.


And someone in a window accross mine will yawn and I will stare...

P.S. On Saturday Night Fever

Seriously, what did anyone ever see of great in that movie? I was shocked by how dislikable it was.
Just had to share it. Please, if you feell strongly about the matter, leave a note on the subject and enlight my confuse soul.

An updateful update

Ok, ok, it is almost nine o'clock and I have not done any of teh nice studying or reading I was supposed to. Therefore, this post must be extremely useful, extremely updateful (do not question my invented words, just forgive) on the whole situation. No more of that blog garbage on how beautiful the little birds are, the light comes in and there, how depressed I am because I don't know often what I am doing here... WHATEVER! Now, real events, stuff that has happened to me.

....

....
... (still thinking)

Ok, I know!

Let us start with that party I went to on Friday night. It was at the house of my 3rd/4th year from Lebanon. I got to meet him there actually. I got to know about the party while shopping with Isabell and Talia on the most frustrating shopping mall in the world : Metrotown - if you do not like reading maps, do not go there. So, the party was themed ABC - anything but clothes. After improvising a nice dress out of an IKEA bag and a pillowcase, there I join the whole gorup and take the bus to the place. Mission accomplished: I had tones of fun. I danced, I talked with people, some of them I don't exactly remember who they were though. I talked to this guy a long time and found out tere are interesting people around here. I met him randomly the other day and exchanged facebooks - honestly the world is way smaller than I thought, even in the big SFU in big Vancouver. Curious.

Next day, I went to have dinner with my aunt, my uncle and their friends. It was fun, restaurant was very nice in a Canadian way and conversations very lively. I learned a couple of things about Canada, I must say. Only thing I disliked: frequent references to apparently me being very smart. Exageration makes me feel uncomfortable. I wish I was very smart - I wouldn't ahve to work as I do then! Oh, funny thing: I got asked again about having a TV and a car. Yes, I a m odd, not watching TV and thinking I am a bit too young to drive. The skytrain is nicer, of course. I took it home around 10:30. I arrived at the bus stop to the University and realised it was cold and I was wearing a summer skirt and knee-high Summer socks. Let us just say those were very long 15 minutes....

Sunday I realised that I had readings to do on Monday. Yes I did. And so, whole day reading was my terrible final fate. Yes, I did not go to the Cinemateque! They had awesome filsm from a French Director that I really wanted to watch... Later in life, if I ever decide to commit to a stable monogamous relationship, my other "half" must be totally into going to this kind of things. Otherwise, not worth even trying.

About me and stable monogamous relationships. The other day, I was having dinner with a friend and two other guys she knew. For some reason I was asked if I would ever marry a German guy. I said : No. Accused of racism and discrimination against poor German boys, I ahd to explain my intentions of not marrying, the fact that I do not see myself as a mother. Without even a stop, in about 30 seconds both of them were pronouncing me a hearthless person who did not want to "share my love" and would end up living wiht cats. They said: I looked like a cat lady. Now, let us be serious here. Why? WHy? Why? I am nice..... Why do I come out as a man-hater bitch instead of a normal 17 year old who does not want to give birth in the near future and does not see the point of a piece of paper (except for tax reduction) as a confirmation of my atheistic love for another person. When will such encounters end...?

Wow, this got long. If anyone ever read all of this, let me know. Anyways, if you know me I probably miss you. So send me an e.mail, a comment, a wall post, a postcard ( I checked my mail everyday and I get realllly happy when I get stuff!).
I love you all and I appologise for any mistakes in the previous text. I am just typing very fast. Everything is ver fast...

I am just sugar high on maple syrup.



But one thing she made clear
There was no coming on to her
There was no way
That she could respect
If it couldn't see
That the girl just wants to be
Left alone with Marx and Engels for a while
She's writing in the style
Of any riot girl

"The bourgeoisie, historically, has played a revolutionary part to all feudal, idyllic relationships.
It has resolved personal worth and in place of freedom is exploitation for profit alone.
There is a spectre of the past in my bold assertion.
We could learn much from the past."

It's Friday night, and I am drinking cheap tea... - Thoughts at the end of the Summer

Yes, it is Friday night. I am drinking cheap tea. I am alone in my room and it is dark outside.

I have my gender studies book open in my desk with some pages left for me to read. But reading about sex and gender and all that gets you tired after a while.

I have a letter that I have written but need to copy into nicer paper and handwriting. I do not have the address to send it yet. No point in doing it now then.

So, that is what I told my aunt whom I called an hour ago. She was very surprised. She said teenagers here in Canada go out and get drunk on Friday nights, they wait all week for it, actually. I was about to tell I could use some cherry licour but I did not.

Yes, I know it all seems boring. Tedious. Outrageously still. Yet, I fell this end of summer days as moments of perfect harmony and beauty. Of thoughts that come to inhabit my head during the soemtimes lonely days. And of visions of details of shocking beauty.

When I was coming from the bank, I heard somehting. A bagpipe, playing somewhere. It was a beautiful song, much like the ones of the Portuguese bagpipe players. So I looked through the last rays of sun, and searched in vain for a player . No sign of man, woman, or any other soul on the lawns around. For about 30 minutes I stood there. Sometimes I felt like I was seeing something, but it was not the player. The music seemed to come from the forest beyond the lawn, up the mountain. It seemed as if it was being played from someone hidding in trees. Maybe it was.

Earlier today, I went to the library and fetched a copy of the Motorcycle Diaries. I must see it. While going out, after a very nice old lady checked my DVD's , I saw the magazine of the Pacific Cinematheque and saw they had a whole cycle dedicated to Truffaut! I almost jumped. In that moment I decided I would go and see all the movies I could at the Cinematheque.

Inspired by this resolution, I went online and checked the programme for the Lisbon Cinemateca. It was beautiful... I wish I was there. I wish I worked there. How beautiful it could be... to work in the Cinemateca. To let yourself drift among the movies everyday. Not to live a fantasy, no. But to live multiple realities. And feel no guilt or shame at all.

And among thoughts such as this I wonder, among the paperwork and the cheap tea, where I am. What is this place I live in and what is my future here. Whatever it might be, it begins with these floatting last summer days.

On Eurovision songs and independent adults

So,

I am writing out of urge today. Yes, it is a craving. Something like the ones you get for chocolate, sex or computer games. And it has been with me the entire day. Tension release to the sound of instrumental Bossa-Nova Brazilian music:


Things have been going much better in my mind for the last few days. Yes, classes are still not perfect (and I started having problems in French!), and people don't reply to my "hi's"... But I go to know really great people.

More than that, at the end of the day, I am becoming exactly what I wanted to be: a strong independent adult (...on the way to?) person.
Each time I come to my messy room and drop my keys on the table, a sense of comfort fills my soul. The only thing it can compare is probably the beautiful sunsets on the top of the Univerisity mountain. I love staring alone at the mountains here.... When I let the last sunrays collide with my body, that is when I feel most free.

I know I expressed very romantic states of mind a couple of posts ago. And, you, dear friends that migth ever acidentally run into this blog, ask: how does this all combine? The strong independent woman and the little girl watching surfers?

As an answer, and initiation of a general comment about human nature, let us take my obsession today with the winner of the 1965 Eurovision competition.

(wait... this might make sense, I promise..)

Poupée de Cire, Poupée de Son, a song sang by a yé-yé blonde France Gall. About how she is only a doll, how she is totally controllable and how her songs show her being like a mirror, how she is afraid of boys and all that... Why, I ask, am I obssessed with it and, at the same time, absolutely hate everything about patronising?

Part of what is like being a human is being creative, seeing the future, imagining another present. And I would like to think that the attraction for the irrational, the conlficting desires we have within us are part of that. We choose to let them be as fantas exactly beacuse they make sus bee alive as human beinmgs.

Being ifascinated by tunexperienceed danger is healthmy, I guess. So is being fascinsated by comfort. I sometimes deeply want to be a Manhattan socialite, with loads of money, random relationships and loads of shoes. I don't know how, but this keeps me going. Not because I will ever get it, not because it makes me be more realistic. Simply, and purely, because it does not make any sense in my life's context!

Being a dreamer and living in fantasy worlds is far from being iddle. It is being more human than anyone else.

The Canadian Dream

Here I am, in my room in SfU, Vancouver, Canada. It is a nice place, I cannot deny that.


I am listening to a CD a nice girl downstairs lent me. It sounds great.

Life if perfect....., or is it?

I arrived in this continent about a week ago. I attended Orientation and had my first class yesterday. I say to everyone at home it has been going perfect but it is not. Maybe it will get better, but this week was not that great.

University here is not exactly what I imagined and I woke up today with the thought that I might have made a mistake...

It is the yelling, the over-exicitment, the "high-school" movie like situations, the obsession with sex and alchool, the conversations I simply cannot get...
I have met some really nice people, but it is so hard to connect with them. I feel like a stranger, a sort of misplaced element. Just like when I was back in Portugal.

And so, as I sitt in my bed, alone in my room, I look out the window. From here I can see around 20 other rooms, in a very voyeuristc way, I must say. I look at all of them and I wonder: will I ever belong here?

This was never a big question, because I never belonged anywhere before my Norwegian chapter. But suddenly, I want to belong, to feel good where I live, comfortable and happy. I want to be able to wake up with a smile and feel therw would be no other place to be than where I am.

I went to my French class yesterday. The teacher was wonderful, a friendly lady from Vietnam with a true passion for her profession. I understood all she said. The students, on the other hand, were sooo hard to get (American acent...). But more than pronunciation, I really felt very odd. I was probably the youngest there, one of the few first years. I was the only international. Well, I know this does not sound like a reason to worry. Probably in another week it will be much better. Meanwhile, the sounf of European French makes me feel good and comforts my soul.

And yet, I spend my mornings in my room, looking out and wondering how cold it is. When I get out for lunch I get lost in the crowd and wonder silently to my room. This routine is broken by the fortunate encounters and meetings with some great people.

And yet, I am unsatisfied. Am I too impacient? Am I so hard to please?

Maybe.